


Blowing off steam

by plaktow



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2013123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaktow/pseuds/plaktow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a successful hit Garrus and Thane ease off stress the Turian way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blowing off steam

Garrus Vakarian stood absolutely still. His eyes darted around the plaza beneath him as he took in every movement and every detail of the ever-changing scene. A young Asari, still in her maiden stage, swayed her hips seductively while passing a wealthy-looking human; a Volus raised his voice to a stubborn Turian trader; an iridescent Hanar kept an unexpectedly long pause during its sermon about the Enkindlers. Garrus noticed a leaf falling softly to the paved plaza of the Citadel and watched it flutter towards a pair of C-Sec officers, who didn’t even glance at the fragile green leaf as it tumbled past. There was no sign of the target.  
  
Across the plaza was a tall tower with thousands of glass windows, all staring down like a gigantic bug’s eye. In front of the building several traders had set up their shops, and customers were gathering around the portable trade kiosk terminals. Thane Krios remained crouched in his hiding place right behind the stalls, only a few meters from the closest shoppers, but still completely unseen. If Garrus was quiet, Thane was the absence of sound: even the calm breeze generated by the station’s AC seemed to carry sounds and scents around the Drell, as if the assassin was not more than an illusion. His black eyes were motionless as he stared at a doorway 15 meters below Garrus’s hiding spot. If the target was going to come, as they suspected, that was the door he’d use. It had to be.  
  
For weeks they had followed the infamous Asari Matriarch known only by the name of Alpha. It was, Garrus had suspected, a deliberate jab at Aria T’Loak. Aria was another influential Asari, who often called herself Omega after the city of Omega, which she owned, governed and ran. From his vantage point Garrus could not see Thane, but he heard a sharp intake of breath through the earphone as the Drell spotted their target. Still staying motionless Garrus stared hard at the plaza, to the space right below the narrow projection he stood on. A blue and purple head bobbed to his sight. Alpha was flanked by three hulking Krogans in the armor of the Blue Suns mercenaries.  
  
“Line of fire not clear”, whispered Thane. The earphone carried his raspy voice clearly, as if the Drell had stood right next to Garrus and whispered in his ear. Garrus shifted, taking care to stay hidden, and lifted up his sniper rifle.    
  
“I got this,” he murmured back. “You owe me one.”  
  
The cross of the trigger danced over the scalp of the Asari. Alpha was an innocent trader - innocent, because saying otherwise would have shortened the life of the speaker considerably. She was also a ruthless murderer and a smuggler, who had left hundreds of illegal immigrants dying in cargo containers, shuttles and escape pods in various systems. He remembered every Turian and Krogan child they’d picked up on the Normandy and transported back to their families only to be be buried.  
  
Garrus breathed out slowly and carefully, and let his finger press the trigger almost caressingly.  
  
A lethal chem round burst out from the barrel of his rifle in near-perfect silence. There was only a soft thump as the Asari collapsed, followed by loud, angry shouts just after and a few scared screams. Neither Garrus nor Thane heard the shouts; they were already on their way to a small bar at the Citadel Tower.  
  
The bar was located in the basement of the Tower, and was usually frequented only  by diplomats who had had enough of political correctness. Thane could feel the bar trembling to the beat of the background music while he waited for the bartender to pour their drinks. A small screen beeped as Thane’s credit chip was registered and charged. By the time Krios made it back to Garrus the Turian was already tapping the tabletop impatiently. He stared at the small, purple phials hungrily.  
  
“To a job well done!” Garrus toasted and poured the sizzling contents of one phial to his mouth, licking his lips happily.  
  
“Kalahira be praised,” replied Thane.  
  
Garrus watched quietly as Thane raised the phial to his pink and green lips, closed his black eyes and let a trickle of the sparkling drink fall on his tongue.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Thane asked after a while. Garrus startled and forced his gaze away from the soft lips and the chiseled face of the Drell opposite to him. His eyes were already beginning to grow hazy.  
  
“Just… thinking, that’s all. About… things.”  
  
“I see. I’ve been wondering... what do Turians believe in?”  
  
Garrus stared silently as the Drell raised his phial again and a dark tongue flashed between the full lips. He watched how Thane blinked: the whitish membranes flicked over his eyes from the sides for a split second, before the black orbs were revealed again. Garrus could see his own image reflected in those dark oceans. Vaguely he remembered being asked something.  
  
“In power, mostly. Strength, intelligence… beauty…”  
  
Thane furrowed his brow. “Beauty?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You said Turians believe in beauty. I do not understand.”  
  
Garrus waved at the barkeep and waited until he had downed another phial before he replied.  
  
“No I didn’t.”  
  
His glazed eyes watched intently as Thane picked up his own drink and emptied the phial. The spikes on his cheeks turned gracefully down as he bent his neck to get the last drops, and his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly in time with his swallows. The lights in the ceiling reflected on his reptilian skin, making his high cheekbones shimmer like a mirage in a desert. Garrus could not stop his eyes from following Thane’s neck down to his chest, partly uncovered by the dark sturdy armor the Drell insisted on wearing. The assassin’s chest was rising and falling in time to his breathing, pectorals clearly visible under the dark green skin.  
  
Again Garrus waved at the barkeep, who approached the table slowly. “A third _Hectic Heretic_? Are you sure, sir?” he asked.  
  
Without taking his eyes off of Thane Garrus reached towards the bartender, opened his palm and growled: “Now.” To his credit the bartender wasted no time filling Garrus’s hand with another purple, sizzling phial before making his way back behind the bar, shaking his head.  
  
“What do you do after a hit?” Thane asked then, watching how his friend and colleague emptied yet another phial. _Hectic Heretics_ were potent drinks: even after just a tiny one Thane’s speech was slurring, albeit just slightly.  
  
“I celebrate!” Garrus boasted. “Before battles Turians ease off their stress by mock combat. It helps to … to settle any disgr… missunner… quarrels. After a hit it’s almost the same. We release the tensions in a controlled manner.” For a moment Garrus stared at Thane’s mouth, but since the Drell remained quiet, he asked: “What about you?”  
  
With his raspy, deep voice Thane began to explain the complexities of his faith. Garrus leaned forward over the small table until his face was so close to Thane’s he could feel the warmth of the Drell’s breath. A faint smile played on Garrus’s slightly parted lips, and the features of his haggard face seemed to soften as he listened about the Gods of the Drell. He noticed how Thane’s posture grew less rigid when the Drell spoke of his religion. Krios leaned his elbows on the table and pressed his palms together, watching at Garrus intently over his crossed fingers.  
  
“... what some believe. Many have accepted the faith of the Hanar.” Thane looked hard at the swaying Turian before him, cocked his head to one side and coughed politely. “Perhaps we should return to the Normandy.”  
  
“You know, I thinks you’re absholutely right. Let’sh go.”  
  
Garrus bounced up, grabbed Thane by the hand and began to drag the surprised Drell away from the bar. They made it until the docking bay’s lounge before Krios, smiling almost imperceptibly, yanked himself free. They stepped aboard the docked Normandy side by side.  
  
“Welcome, Vakarian and Krios. The Commander is on the Bridge,” EDI welcomed in her humming voice. No matter how Joker had tried he hadn’t been able to bring EDI to first-name basis with anyone else than himself. The pilot would always be Jeff to the virtual intelligence.  
  
Garrus grunted. “It’s not the Commander I want,” he muttered under his breath. In a louder -and considerably more sober, now that they were back on board the Normandy- voice he asked: “Have a moment, Thane? I need your opinion on… on… an algorithm.”  
  
Thane simply nodded and followed the Turian through the Bridge and down the steps to the crew deck, where they strolled past the mess hall to the gun section. As soon as the door had closed behind them Garrus spun around and nailed Thane between a bulkhead and himself. Their clashing armors screeched in protest as metal hit metal.  
  
“You were interested in the Turian way to blow off some steam,” Garrus murmured, his voice strangely husky. “Perhaps I could … demonstrate it to you?”  
  
“I would like that,” the assassin admitted. “I am not familiar with Turian physiology, however. Perhaps we should postpone this until further data can be collected?”  
  
For a moment Garrus seemed to be utterly lost. He blinked. A scientific response was not what he had anticipated. Thane leaned against the bulkhead and let a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He blinked, slowly, and the ceiling lights shone from his eyes like stars. It seemed to be enough to bring Garrus back to his senses.  
  
“I suggest we collect that data now,” the Turian grinned and attacked Thane’s armor. “Empirically.”  
  
The Drell had only to move his arms a bit so that Garrus could reach the fastenings at the sides of the chest plate before two bulky pieces of armor fell to the floor. Krios leaned closer to Garrus and planted a greedy kiss on his neck, a small and vulnerable spot of naked Turian skin. Garrus growled like a wolf in heat. His strong hands ripped Thane’s leather armor off in a matter of seconds.  
  
Reaching behind his back to unfasten his own armor Garrus was unable to resist as Thane, now clad only in briefs, suddenly spun around and pushed the Turian forcefully against the door. A quiet series of beeps informed them that the door was locked and could not be opened.  
  
“Don’t move”, hissed the Drell and kissed Garrus’s neck again, softly grazing the tough skin with his teeth. Thane ran his tongue over the scars, old and new, marks of the prowess of the Turian. His own breathing quickened as he thought of the strength before him and how he controlled it in two simple words. Don’t move. Garrus obeyed. Slow, nearly imperceptible waves rippled across Thane’s shining scaly skin as his body pumped blood down to his groin. His pectorals pumped like bellows.  
  
Thane’s fingers were agile and sensitive. He found the fastenings and buckles of Garrus’s armor easily, but he took a deliberately long time taking each piece off. He caressed the armor, making sure Garrus saw and could imagine how the touch would feel on his bare skin, and when his fingers came across a fastening he opened it slowly, black eyes watching how Garrus shivered as the armor came loose with a snap. When the chest armor was finally removed the Drell let his tongue run over the Turian’s collar bones and down on his strong chest. Garrus’s skin felt warm on his lips.  
  
Thane kneeled. The Turian’s skin turned from rough and gray to light and soft as Thane’s questing lips moved over the chest and hard nipples down to the abs. He traced the muscular abs with the tip of his tongue, and was rewarded with a moan. Garrus’s knees buckled, but he managed to stay upright by supporting himself on Thane’s shoulders.  
  
“You enjoy this, _siha_?” Thane whispered.  
  
“It’s… goddammit that feels good!…it’s a Turian thing. The stomach is an…”  
  
Thane caressed the sloping grooves from Garrus’s loins down to his groin. That perfect V-shape tasted sweet on his tongue. Garrus tried to moan, but no sound came out.  
  
“An erogenous zone?” Thane suggested, scratching the skin gently. His nails left white marks over the soft skin, but drew no blood.  
  
“If you stop I will kill you.”  
  
Thane chuckled softly, but continued kissing and biting at the Turian’s lower abdomen, while his fingers continued their quest to relieve Garrus of his armor. As soon as the boots and leg armor were off the Turian collapsed on his hands and knees on the floor, panting heavily. Thane did not let Garrus rest. He pushed the nearly naked agent down on his back and crawled over him, Garrus’s incoherent mumbling ringing in his ears like the sweetest music.  
  
Garrus tried to lift his head to steal a kiss from Thane, but the Drell pushed him back down.  
  
“Our skin excretes a mildly hallucinatory toxin, Vakarian. You don’t … you don’t want to ingest it.”  
  
“Hell yes I do!”  
  
Again Garrus was pushed down. “No. Not yet.”  
  
“.... Oh,” was all Garrus could muster. Thane was sitting on his thighs now, kissing his abs again while his hands were busily tearing apart the last piece of cloth that still covered the Turian. Already the underpants were tight and moist, and a salty scent confirmed the agent’s lust.  
  
Sharp Turian claws dug deep into Thane’s shoulders as he took the bulging cock on his mouth. The member was deep blue and hard, like azurite. It was already longer and thicker than that of the Drell. It had jagged ridges along the shaft, but either consciously or by reflex the spikes stayed flat.  
  
“Thane…”  
  
“Mmh?” Krios swallowed the member as deep as he could.  
  
“Turn around.”  
  
The claws were retracted, and demanding fingers grabbed Thane’s chin, trying to pull the Drell up. Licking the shaft up and down, letting his tongue dance on the sensitive tip, Thane continued to please his comrade while he tore off his boxers and threw them away. He kept on sucking while he turned and placed his naked crotch and fully erect green cock an inch above Garrus’s face. He didn’t even register the coldness of the floor creeping up on his bare knees. His focus was on a small, dark pucker under Garrus’s hairless testicles.  
  
Garrus did not waste time admiring the emerald green organ so temptingly offered to him.  His long, dark tongue lashed out and twirled around the tip, drawing a curvy line all the way to the black base surrounded by short, curly hair. Thane’s skin felt sugary and moist, but the sweetness dissolved soon and left an almost mossy taste. _The toxin_ , Garrus thought. _I wonder how it affects-_  
  
“ _G’reka takh!_ ” he bellowed suddenly in Turiani as a saliva-lubricated tentative finger was gently pushed inside him. Waves of primal lust washed over him, and the colors of the Drell’s skin flashed brilliantly in his eyes. He could hear his own heartbeat, and he more saw than felt the heat emanating from Thane’s member.  He gave it a long lick before giving a translation. “That… that felt... Krios, I really will kill you if you stop.”  
  
Another finger was inserted, and a third. Garrus could feel the Drell filling him, stretching his hole to the limit where pain and pleasure become one. Thane’s cock was pulsating in his mouth, swelling and shrinking in turn, while the vibrant colors on the thighs at both sides of Garrus’s head grew brighter and dimmer. His own blood was singing in his ears, an old, feral song about lust and need. Every touch, every lick and gentle bite Thane gave to the Turian’s rock-hard cock felt hundred times better than anything else ever had. Their bodies seemed to fuse into one as they sucked each other in desperate need to please and be pleased.  
  
Thane could feel Garrus’s entire body grow suddenly very tense. His own member was swallowed even deeper than before, and Garrus’s claws pressed into his thighs drawing a tiny rivulet of dark red blood.The pain was exquisite, like burning oil over the sea of his desire, and it light up an inferno in his loins. The Turian’s back arched violently. Hot, white liquid splurted to the assassin’s mouth, pushing Thane into a raging abyss of emotions, memories and carnal pleasures of an orgasm. A joint roar of pleasure filled the room.  
  
Slowly the echoes of the roar died down. Minutes passed. Thane fell over to his side, and stayed on the cold floor, panting and shivering. Next to him Garrus was laying perfectly still. The only noise they heard was a distant hum of electricity surging from the station to the Normandy.  
  
“I… I have to…” Thane began, but couldn’t find words to finish the sentence.  
  
“... Yeah, me too”, Garrus agreed after a while. Carefully he opened his eyes, but the room was still, all colors in boring hues of gray. No special effects of colors or sound anywhere.  
  
More minutes passed. Garrus clambered up, got into a fresh black uniform and made his way to the men’s room at the end of the crew deck. When he returned he was greeted by an empty room, the musky aroma of sex and a small hand-written piece of paper. It said:  
  
 _I’m looking forward to our next scientific mission._  
-Thane  
  
PS. Now we’re even.  
  
Garrus remembered how he had stolen Thane’s kill just a few hours ago.  They were even now? He chuckled to himself.  
  
“Only until the next hit, my sweet Drell. Only until the next time.”


End file.
